


Tin Man

by wekingsandprettythings



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012 Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breakup, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 14:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10538739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wekingsandprettythings/pseuds/wekingsandprettythings
Summary: It’s 2012. Phil’s watching his favorite childhood movie while trying to cope with his breakup with his best friend and love of his life. Songfic based on the song Tin Man by Miranda Lambert





	

It’s hard to be ‘broken up’ with someone when they live in the same house as you. It’s hard to remember that you can’t wrap your arms around them while they're pouring one bowl of cereal instead of two. It’s hard to not be able to rest your head on their shoulder while you sit on the couch watching a show you used to love when you were happy. It’s hard to get up and go to bed and tie your tongue so you don’t accidentally say “I love you”. It’s hard to be so madly in love with someone who doesn’t know how to love you back.

It wasn’t Dan’s fault. He was 18 when we got together, he barely had any time to figure out who he was when we threw ourselves into a relationship. So when he came to me and said it would be better if we took a break because he needed to figure out how to love himself before he could love me, I had to accept it. But while he’s trying to do that there is no one stopping me from loving him with all my heart.

It’s been hard to adjust. I wake up and his side of the bed is cold. I go to the kitchen and find him shirtless, making breakfast for himself, and I can’t go kiss his shoulder. So I grab my coffee as quick as I can and go back to our, I mean my, room. 

Dan and I only talk when we need to. Sometimes he wants to hang out because he’s lonely, and a few times he’s asked for a hug because he’s been thinking too much. Normally when he has one of his crisis’s I could sit with him and rub his back until he was ready to talk. But whatever he was going though right now while trying to “love himself” has completely changed him. 

I want to love him. I’ve planned on loving him for the rest of my life, and whether or not he wants to love me back doesn’t matter because I’m never stopping. And truthfully I don’t think he’s stopped loving me, more like he’s pushed it aside.

ITV2 is playing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz today, it was my favorite childhood movie. I thought the lion was the cutest and funniest character in the whole thing. But I always felt bad for the Tin Man, he wanted a heart so darn bad. But now, watching it back I don’t feel for him. I’m mad at him, jealous even. Having a heart sucks. You feel all these things that you don’t want to feel. It’s like an anchor, holding you back, making it unable for you to move on. 

You know what Mr. Tin Man? If you ever felt one breaking you’d never want one. You don’t know how lucky you are, if you want a heart so bad you can have mine. Mind the scares, and the pieces that are missing and just take it from me. 

In return I want your armor. I want to hide away from the hurt, I want to stop the pain, and I want to be strong again. I don’t want to see something online and think “Dan would love that.” I don’t want to scroll through the TV guide and see shows and movies we once watch cuddled up together. I don’t want to look at him and see those big brown eyes I used to stare into through a laptop screen, hoping and wishing that one day they’d be in front of me. 

Every time I’ve cried over this I’ve done it when he was out of the house, when he was asleep, or when I was in the shower. Because I don’t want him to know how much this hurts me. I don’t want him to see me sad. I don’t want him to think he has to love me, I want him to follow his heart and do what’s right.

But right now I am going to cry. I’m going to cry in my bedroom, with the door open, in broad daylight. I’m going to cry because I can and because I am hurt. And I don’t care if he hears me anymore. My heart is shattered and all I want is to love him again.

Once I start to cry, I can’t stop. The tears fall down my face, colliding with each other, gathering at my chin and falling to my shirt. The heavy flow of sobs being released from my body eventually turn into breathless weeps. 

I removed my glasses at some point to wipe my face with my shirt. Mix my blindness with the excessive amount of salty tears and I am oblivious as to what’s around me. And then the heaving made it so I could hear the blood pumping in my ears, my face is hot, and the amount of snot coming from my nose is disgusting. 

I’ve joked about Dan’s loud pacing before, normally I can always hear him walking around, but I missed it this time. He comes in and sits on my bed beside me, wraps me up into his arms and lies back. My face is pressed into his chest, probably soaking the shirt he has on.

He smells like home. He smells like 5 hour Skype calls, he smells like 3 hour breakfasts, he smells like rainy Starbucks windows, he smells like love and happiness and warmth. He smells like everything I want and more.

Somehow the tears stopped, my heart rate settled back to normal, and my breathing got heavy. We managed to fall asleep together, cuddled in what used to be our bed.

He woke me up by softly running his fingers though my hair. “I love you.” He whispered to me. “In these last few months I’ve realized that in order to love myself I have to be happy. I thought that to be happy I would cut out the things that didn’t make me happy anymore.” His pause is due to the tears emerging from his eyes. 

“Somehow you ended up being one of the things I cut from my life. But you are the best part of it Phil. Loving you makes me happy, being loved by you makes me even happier. And I want to be happy forever with you by my side.”

I reach up to kiss him. But stop to look in his glossy eyes, they’re still the same wonderful shade of brown I fell in love with 4 years ago. I can’t help but run my fingers down his cheeks, stopping to poke his dimple, and admire all the precious little freckles that are gathered like constellations on his perfectly rosy cheeks. Cupping his face, I rub my thumb over his slightly chapped lips and then press mine to them. 

It’s soft and sweet. Gentle and kind. Loving and unlike any kiss we’ve shared before. Full of regret as well as forgiveness. Cheeks draped in tears of love opposed to sadness. When we pull away, I’m still staring into his eyes, “I love you so much.” 

He kisses my forehead, “I love you so much as well.” And I lay my head back on his chest.

My heart still hurts, but he’s managed to pick up the pieces and glue them together. Soon the scares will form and I’ll be healed, but they’ll still be there to remind me of the pain. But I guess in some way’s the pain is okay, because it means you truly cared.


End file.
